Children of the future
by Kawamoto Haruka
Summary: The countries thought they just appeared in their land as chibis. Little did they know that some were given the gift of family. Parents. The ancients learned long ago they were not meant to last. For they gave birth to a legacy.
1. Chapter 1

Children of the future

China was, no doubt, very old. He had represented his country for over four thousand years after all. And despite human understanding of memory, China actually remembered most of those four thousand years. He remembered the colors of the trees every time his dynasty changed. The smell of blood and smoke from every battle he had witnessed. He could recall the pain of every wound he received. And he could clearly remember the feeling of peace when his country was not engaged in war, or in the middle of a recession.

But there was a point that evaded even China's memory, despite his efforts to remember.

His earliest years, including his creation.

No country was quite sure how exactly they were created. The earliest memory most nations had was when their country was established, but they all knew they had existed before that. Some remembered being discovered by another country, but not much before that.

Most countries just figured, that once a country was guaranteed to exist, a personification appeared in the land they were to represent. Thus there was no 'birth' of countries.

China, having discovered more than one personification himself, was one country that believed this theory.

Yet he couldn't help but feel, deep down, that he was wrong.

…..

Huang Di looked at the woman standing in front of him, a distinctive protrusion in her abdomen.

"How did this happen?" he asked simply.

"I don't know." She replied. The eyes of the man responsible for bringing government and unity to her country stared down at her in contemplation.

If one were to see this scene without knowing the woman, they would assume she was Huang di's wife, or even his lover. But this was not the case. Huang di held a reverence toward this woman that people at this time could hardly fathom. However, despite appearances, this woman was much older than Huang di. She could outlive him without even trying.

This woman was the personification of the land along the yellow river, all the way to the great sea to the east.

The man sighed, bringing his hand to his face as he contemplated the meanings behind this new development. "What does this mean for our new union?"

"Again, I don't know." She looked down, absently rubbing her pregnant stomach. "I don't even know if he'll be... like me." she sighed, knowing the man would know what she meant.

Huang Di sighed once more. The last thing the new country needed was a rival country to be born. Their union was too new to compete for resources. They hadn't even chosen a name for the country yet!

Looking back at his land's personification, he stated wearily, "If he is a country, then there is not much we can do. You'll just have to raise him and hope for the best."

The woman nodded in understanding. She took her leave of the man.

Huang di sighed for what he felt was the hundredth time that day. What did this child mean for their little country?

…..

Huang di had grown old over the years. He had suffered through the hardships that come with leading a new country into growth. Yet throughout the entire struggle there were always two constant companions at his side, the representative of the land, and her little son.

After her son had been born, the land's representative had confirmed his being a country. However, despite the number of times both she and Huang di had asked, the child would not confirm which country or land he represented. Thus, over the decades, just as the little country, the child had remained nameless.

Huang di had spent countless hours and many sleepless nights wondering about the existence of the child.

He was healthy and intelligent. He grew quickly for a country (according to his mother). He was speaking coherently and getting along well with the people. He loved learning, especially things pertaining to the unified nation.

Huang di had thought of everything about the child, and through all his time of thinking he could come up with one scenario that made sense of all of it.

The child ran into the room in which Huang di was sitting, long ash brown hair flapping behind him as he smiled. The child's mother followed at a much slower pace, giving a respectful bow to Huang di as she entered and went to retrieve her child.

Huang di smiled before he realized what a golden opportunity he had been presented with.

"Have you discovered the child's name yet?" he asked his long-time friend.

The woman looked over at Huang di, momentarily forgetting about retrieving her son. Seeing the opportunity he scurried off to another part of the room, eliciting a sigh from his mother.

"No," she replied. "I've taken to calling him Yao for the time being."

Huang di nodded, having expected nothing else. He caught the eyes of the young boy, motioning for him to come closer. Yao did so readily, seating himself into Huang di's offered lap.

"Tell me, Yao, what is your name?" Huang di looked into the child's curious large brown eyes, holding his attention.

"Wang Yao." Replied the child, smiling.

"No," Huang di clarified, "what is the name of your country?" when the child simply looked at him curiously, Huang di explained. "Your mother has told you about how you represent a country, yes?"

Yao nodded, still confused at the conversation. "Can you tell me the name of the country you represent?"

Yao shook his head.

"Why can't you say?"

"I don't know its name." replied Yao immediately.

"Do you know if it has a name yet?" Huang di continued, not missing the look of suspicion beginning to grow on the land's representative's face.

Yao however was oblivious and replied without hesitation, "No, I do not have a name."

Huang di simply nodded as if he had expected this from the child.

"Tell me Yao, do you like the name China?"

Yao's eyes widened as he beamed the widest smile he could. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "I like it very much."

"Huang di." The newly named China's mother interrupted, "what are you doing?"

Huang di smiled softly at the woman. "I simply named my country."

"What do you mean?"

"I had decided on it this morning. This country still needed a name. I thought that China would be a suitable name for a country. I was just running it by our representative first. I think he likes it."

"I do not understand." The land along the yellow river stated.

"let me explain," Huang di said calmly, making a placating gesture with his hands as if the woman in front of him were enraged. "Yao was born near the time of our county's union." Huang di gestured to the boy who had since removed himself from the ruler's lap and begun playing around the large room. "not only that, but he has quickly learned our language and customs. He is in tune with the land and the people have taken a liking to him." Huang di's tone grew fond speaking of the child. The land along the Yellow River regarded the ruler with suspicion. "you have mentioned that you have felt a disconnect with the land. You did not feel the effects of the good rains, nor of the unrest of the people."

"I have said such, but why is that relevant?"

"I believe that rather than representing a new nation, Yao has taken upon the representation of this very land." He revealed to his former land.

She gasped, realizing that the point was valid and the evidence supported the claim. "But I have never heard of such an event. A nation being replaced, the land choosing a new representative while the old still exists."

"True, it does seem odd, nevertheless, Yao has shown signs that he is our precious China." Huang di and the former nation looked over at the still young nation as he giggled in amusement.

"If this is true," the woman started, "then why is it I am still here? Why do I exist when I no longer represent a land?"

Huang di sighed. "For that, I have no answer." He looked sadly at the woman who was with him throughout the difficulties of raising a young nation. "Perhaps a higher power has seen fit that you be granted time with your son as he grows into his birthright."

…..

As years advanced and the people of China entered the Xia Dynasty, not many noticed the passing of one very old, yet youthful woman. But the grief of one child carried through the land, even as China bean its years of greatness.

Yet in four thousand years, despite the impeccable memory a nation is gifted with, the now matured Yao, who used to play in the room of the great Huang di, would forget his loving mother and the wise ruler who gave him his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay! I'm so happy to have both a follower and a favoriter! You two really motivated me to write this chapter (I'm still really surprised with how fast it wrote itself). Now time for information no one cares about! I'm not too picky when it comes to criticism, just please don't directly insult me (I'll cry). Also I'm really worried about my grammar, o if anyone notices a mistake they are free to point it out to me. I'm not the fastest writer but I promise to always finish a work I start (even if the ending becomes rushed and terribly written, sorry).**

 **For this story specifically, it is my first work, so don't set your expectations too high. I am not promising to be completely historically accurate, but I'll try to at least be close.**

 **Thanks to anyone who decides to read this! More than anything I'm glad to now be a part of FanFiction!**

According to her philosophers, humans gave birth so that their race would live on and continue to work. It was a survival instinct set into every mortal creature on the earth.

So what was the reason for an immortal to have a child?

The national personification of Greece watched her son sitting on the stone benches of her capital city of Athens, listening to the philosophers preaching on the steps in front of the grandiose building.

Most of the audience were older adults, some were even surprised to see a child among the listeners. If they could truly call an entity older than themselves a child. Nevertheless, the child listened with rapt attention as the topic changed from death to life to human purpose.

But did these thin really matter to being such as Greece and her son?

…..

"But mother I don't want to go!" the son of Greece protested, not once moving from his current position.

Greece looked down at her currently uncooperative son. "Heracles, I just need you to stay with him for a few days, a week at most."

"But Ottoman is mean and stupid and I don't like him." Heracles pouted, crossing his arms to show his resoluteness.

Greece sighed kneeling next to her son. "I know you don't like him, but I promise that Ottoman is a good person. What's more is I trust him to look after you while I deal with the invasion of the Roman Empire."

Heracles uncrossed his arms and started petting the cat that made its way onto his lap. The motion was calming and eventually the young male sighed in defeat. "fine, but only for one week."

His green eyes lifted to meet the identical ones of his mother. It really was amazing how similar they looked. The same chocolate brown hair framed their vibrant green eyes. Identical double curls adorned the crowns of their heads. Heracles was a rather feminine looking child to take on his mother so much.

Greece smiled down at the boy. "of course, and not a day more."

As the two made their way to the Ottoman Empire's place, Heracles couldn't help but feel as if he were leaving behind something important. He could feel the people of Athens moving about their daily lives. Always moving, like the blood that flowed through their mortal frames. Their voices carried a steady, comforting rhythm, like the beating of a heart. Heracles focused on the sound, letting it calm him. Unconsciously Greece rubbed the hand of her son she held enclosed within her own. Their steps crunched on the road to the east.

Eventually they met a man wearing the most unnecessarily colorful outfit Heracles had ever laid eyes on. He would have laughed if he didn't recognize the masked face that poked out from under the floofy headpiece. Rather than laughing, Heracles scowled.

"Ho ho. What's up little man? Found out the name of your country yet?" the Ottoman empire greeted, a large obnoxious smile pasted on his face.

"No" answered to young immortal coldly and honestly.

Greece chose to intervene before any hateful words could be shared between the two. "thank you for watching him Ottoman."

"No problem Miss Greece. I promise to keep the little dude out of trouble. Nothing will happen to him while I'm around!" Turkey punctuated him point by resting his hand heavily upon the boy's head, messing up his hair in the process. Heracles huffed, violently pushed the offending limb off his head, and gently fixed his hair.

Greece smiled down at Heracles, bending down so that her face was level with his. "promise me you'll be good for Mr. Ottoman?"

Heracles averted his gaze from his mother's, but nonetheless nodded in consent. Greece's eyes brightened as she gently brushed through her son's brown locks. "Good."

With that Greece stood to return to her home, turning her back on her son.

She had not gone a long distance when she heard a call from behind her. "I love you Mother."

Greece turned back to see the small form of her son, softly waving at him as she turned and continued on her way.

"Ha! You're such a mama's boy little man." The Ottoman empire jested.

Heracles simply glared at the taller man, watching his mother walk away even as the beating of his heart got louder, and the voices of his mother's people got clearer.

…..

The Roman Empire had nothing against his fellow nations. He didn't start his conquering days as a way to hurt them. No, he was just incredibly competitive and wanted to show everyone just how powerful he could be. He wasn't just an idiot no matter what Germania said.

Besides he wanted his little Feli and Lovi to know just how awesome their grandpa was.

These thoughts persisted in his mind even as he and his army moved further into the territory of Greece.

He hasn't seen the personification in years. Not since before Lovi and Feli were born. He vaguely wondered if she had changed at all.

It had taken a while, but eventually he made it to the capital of Athens. As his troops bean to capture the city, Roman empire found himself standing in front of a beautiful brunette woman, dressed in classic Greek robes.

"Greece." He greeted, though there was no hint of his usual Italian warmth. They both knew why he was here, and it was not for catching up.

"Rome." Was all she said in return. He looked calm, one does not survive as a nation by showing others their weakness. In reality Greece was terrified. She couldn't hear the people of Athens, even as they were being attacked and killed. There was no pain she should have felt from their deaths.

Rome spoke again "If you surrender and come with me now, we can avoid fighting each other. I'd rather not hurt an old friend."

"I will never give up my land. As you should very well understand."

Rome sighed at the words of his fellow country. "very well then. Know that you brought this on yourself" he said as he readied his sword.

"that's a lie and you know it." Reece responded, readying her own weapon.

With no more words between them, the two began to battle.

It had not been long into their fight when Greece began to weaken, her movements becoming slower. Rome, seeing an opportunity, increased the ferocity of his attacks. It was obvious to anyone watching the woman was losing.

"are you ready to surrender?" Rome called out. The look the woman sent him was all the answer he needed as he swung his sword downward.

Not even he was prepared for what happened.

The sword met the flesh of the immortal who immediately cried out in agony at the, before unparalleled, pain she felt.

Rome stopped attacking at the cry. Physical wounds, even from other nations, were not supposed to elicit such a level of pain. What's more the blood that dripped onto the stone streets was quickly covering a much larger area than it was supposed to.

Rome stared in horror at the red liquid, then sent the same look to the now red stained sword in the hand. Panicked, he threw the weapon to the round as if it had burned him. He rushed to the side of the nearly still woman, watching the rising of her chest to ensure that she was still alive.

"Greece," he cried, "Greece I' so sorry. I didn't mean-"

Rome stopped his words when he heard a pained groan. It almost sounded as if she were trying to speak.

"Greece, what is it? Tell me. I'll do anything you need. Just say you're going to be alright." Rome was unsure if he was crying at that moment, looking at the dying woman who he had once called a friend. Who he had brought to the brink of death. "say you'll be alright."

Another pained groan. Rome strained his ears to find any words his fellow nation may be saying. The next roan definitely contained words.

"'m sorry"

"No, Greece. I'm sorry. I didn't know." Rome could definitely see his tears falling on the woman's face.

"Hera-" the last pain filled word slipped past the nation's lips, before the air refused to fill the dead woman's lungs.

"Greece! Please don't die. You're immortal so act like it and get up!" but Rome's cries only fell onto unhearing ears. "it wasn't supposed to be like this."

Rome clutched tightly the body of the dead woman even as his army shouted in celebration of their victory over the great city of Athens. He held tightly to her until her body faded completely, the immortal frame not meant to remain in the mortal world.

…..

The Ottoman Empire stared worriedly at his temporary charge. The young boy had without warning, gripped his chest, before falling in a pain filled fit. He had cried that his heart was burning.

As a nation, the Ottoman Empire could easily identify this as the young boy's capital taking damage. Yet Ottoman knew that the boy did not yet have a country, let alone a capital city. So unless a new country had been formed, a capital established and destroyed within the past three days, the boy should not be plagued by the pain of nations. Yet there Heracles lay, face contorted in pain as his capital suffered.

Ottoman was trying to think of other possibilities when Heracles shot strait up with a cry of pain and fear. "Mother!"

Had the circumstances been different, Ottoman might have teased the boy for calling for his mother upon waking. However, circumstances being as they were, he simply raced over to Heracles, ready to offer support.

Heracles was whipping his head back and forth, searching the room for his mother. He only stopped when his heart gave another painful throb, his hand gripping his already crumpled shirt as if it would help to alleviate the pain.

He heard a soft voice next to him, "hey, little man, tell me what's wrong. I want to help but you need to tell me what's happening."

Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice whispered that the man who had spoken was a jerk, and Heracles should tell him nothing. However, the more prominent part of his mind was filled with pain and wanted it to stop.

So without thinking too much of what he was saying, Heracles told the man, "Athens is being attacked. I can feel it. They're dying. Please make it stop." He begged even as the pain in his chest receded ever so slowly. Yet the experience was too much for his young body to handle, and so Heracles plummeted into unconsciousness.

The Ottoman Empire's mind was racing. 'why can Heracles feel Athens? That's Greece's capital. If something were wrong she would feel it not Heracles!'

In all his decades, Ottoman had never heard of something like this happening. No nation had ever felt another's capital.

…..

It would be several days until news of what occurred in Athens reached the home of The Ottoman Empire. The death of Greece was enough to shake the very old man to his immortal soul. But even more shocking would be the discovery of young Heracles' country. The new personification of Greece mourned the loss of his mother in the house of the Ottoman Empire.

It was emotionally taxing for the old empire as he watched his new charge's grief morph into nonchalance, and for that nonchalance to consume the boy's life, slowly eating away at his memories of his loving mother.

Rome would not discover the existence of the child for another two decades, and he dared not approach the child whose mother he had taken. He never considered taking custody of the child though it was given him by the rights of conquest.

So the young Greece was raised by the Ottoman Empire rather than the romans. Never once, even as Heracles questioned his earliest days, when he thought he heard a gentle woman's voice as he was digging, or when they were in bouts of insulting each other meaninglessly, did Turkey ever mention the woman who had promised a week but never returned for her son.

 **A/N: Yeah, sorry if the names were confusing. I couldn't call her Ancient Greece since at the time she was not really Ancient. Review if you'd like!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Does anyone else feel like it's been forever since I updated this? I'm so sorry for taking so long. (please don't hurt me). I'd like to thank c7a7t7 for all your support. (you rule!) Now onto what is probably the worst written chapter this fic will see. Sorry.**

* * *

Egypt sometimes found it amusing how her human rulers had convinced themselves they were gods.

If there was anything centuries of living had taught her, it was that humans were anything but gods.

Humans die quickly. They fight each other for power or possession. They take what is not theirs to hold. And they are completely dependent on the kindness of nature for their survival.

Humans, though rather incompetent at times, were the best creatures to cultivate the land. What other being could have built an empire in an otherwise unyielding environment.

 _Human I wonder why you're a better make than I could ever build or create, you know not love or hate._ _1_

Egypt wondered if she could build something so spectacular if humans weren't here.

She wondered if she would one day have a legacy all her own.

…..

That legacy came in a form that Egypt never expected. Two little boys, no taller than the length of her arm, lay wrapped in a clean neat fabric. The people easily accepted to two into their belief as new gods (as Egypt herself had been labeled as a god as the people recognized her long life). Egypt, though not the most nurturing country, did her best to raise the two.

Akhen and Gupta were truly blessings. They brightened her life. They were all Egypt had wanted. Something she could call her own. Companions through her long lonely life.

So when one terrible night came, a night of death, a horrible day really that would be remembered for generations, Egypt found herself experiencing the sorrow of her people as she lay her eldest son to rest for the final time.2 She cried bitter tears even after his body faded from the mortal realm.

Egypt had, being immortal, experienced plenty of death in her life. No death, no war, no famine could even touch the pain she felt at that time.

Egypt finally understood her humans.

Death was a horrible thing, and to live in its shadow every day… humans were strong. Much stronger than she could ever be.

Little did she know that would be put to the test.

…..

"Mother." Gupta called.

Egypt emerged from the adjacent room. "what is it Gupta?"

"I feel odd. I do not know why."

Egypt smiled even as her son wrapped his arms around his stomach in reaction to his feeling.

"Darling, that's just your country, something is happening there that is causing that feeling."

Egypt bent so she could embrace the boy, who had grown so much over the decades. "I am so happy you've gotten a country. Do you know its name yet?"

Gupta shook his head, no.

"Don't worry dear, it will come in time." Egypt stood, looking down at her son as she held out her hand. "Come, let us celebrate the occasion. You've just been given responsibility of a country. It is a big day."

Gupta nodded as he took his mother's hand, choosing to ignore the churning in his stomach.

Miles away the sand was misplaced as it shifted underfoot of the soldiers marching toward the palace of the pharaohs. At the head of the men, marched a strong man, sword sheathed at his side even as his mind fretted of the oncoming battle. Memories of what occurred in Athens floated across his thoughts, and he prayed to Juno3 this would not be a repeat of that day.

So with this hope the Roman Empire drew his sword as the first people came into view.

Egypt was not expecting the groan of pain to come from her son. Yes, she was aware that the fate of a country could be rather temperamental, but surely nothing bad could have happened already. However, …

"Mother" Gupta groaned, now clutching close to his heart. Egypt was worried. Young countries were not known for their high survival rate.

She was not prepared to hear the panic of her people, nor the sounds of battle. For in her mind, Gupta was more important at the moment.

…

Rome reached the house where Egypt resided. He had not seen her out with her people, and was secretly relieved he had not seen her fighting.

He took his swords and laid it carefully outside the door before entering.

"Egypt" he called out, "Are you here?"

He was met with no reply.

He went to explore the house and quickly found the woman. She was kneeling over a child who seemed to be in some kind of pain. Rome approached, not wanting to startle the woman.

As he got closer Rome was able to see that the boy looked remarkable like Egypt. His dark brown hair was cut short and was, at the moment disheveled. His face followed the same gentle curve as the nation and his eyebrows were the same shape. His eyes were closed, but he imagined they were the same deep brown.

In a revelation that was not extraordinary, Rome realized that the boy was Egypt's son.

Thoughts of Greece and her son he had only heard of bombarded his mind and the old empire sunk to his knees. "No, please not again." He whispered to himself.

Egypt heard his silent plea and whipped around to see the man, dressed in full armor, behind her.

"Rome?" she asked "what are you doing here?" her words were not entirely without contempt. She had heard of what occurred in Athens and wished for none of that to happen here. But Rome was still a friend.

Rome rather than answer her question, pointed to Gupta with a shaking hand, as if the child was a cause for great fear. "he is your son." He said.

Egypt was confused, but nonetheless answered the not quite a question. "Yes." She turned her gaze and looked lovingly at the boy. "His name is Gupta."

Rome's demeanor did not change, but he must have caught the confused look of his fellow country, for he tried to clarify. "Greece… also had a son."

This made Egypt pause, for she had not heard of this before. But she was confused as to why Rome would bring it up.

She didn't have to wonder for long.

"He's staying with Ottoman now. He personifies Greece."

Egypt gasped. Rome only turned his gaze to the pained child. Egypt followed his gaze, finally reaching an understanding of what Rome was implying.

"You think Gupta is representing my country?"

Rome nodded. "But maybe, if you tried, you could take it back." He looked at her in hope.

Egypt was wary of the suggestion "What would happen to Gupta?"

Rome shook his head. "I don't know"

Egypt immediately gathered her son in her arms, clutching him tightly. "would it kill him?"

"I don't know. It might."

"Then no."

Rome looked at her in shock. "'But you'll die if you don't!"

"I'd rather die than sacrifice him!" Egypt screeched.

Rome looked toward the floor, suddenly ashamed he had suggested she let her son die.

"If," Egypt started, "if nothing else, if there is nothing else I can give him, I want to let him have this chance at life."

"I have two grandsons." Rome stated suddenly. Egypt looked to him in surprise. "Lovino and Feliciano. I think I would do the same for them."

Egypt smiled warmly, looking down at Gupta as she stroked his hair. "You'd be a good father."

Rome looked at the woman, surprised and touched.

However, at that moment Gupta let out a particularly pain filled cry. Egypt continued to comfort him. She stroked his hair with her fingers, even as she noticed they looked rather transparent.

Rome must have seen it too, for he cried, "Egypt. I'm so sorry"

"it isn't your fault. If anything it is mine for making this choice." Egypt smiled at the distraught Rome. "Just please, don't let any pain come to Gupta. He deserves a very happy life."

Neither could say more for the personification of Egypt faded completely at that moment.

Rome reached out, hoping to touch his fellow nation, instead his fingers met the soft hair of the young boy.

…..

Ottoman sighed as he sat down. He had just had a particularly bad fight with Greece and he was prepared to not care about anything for a few hours.

He had just relaxed when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned, and reluctantly stood up. He arrived at the door, prepared to give a rude welcome to the person at the door for disturbing him. When he opened the door, he was met with the face of the Roman Empire.

"What are you doing here? If you're here for Heracles, you can't have him." Ottoman said with contempt.

Rome looked down, "No, actually I have a favor to ask."

Ottoman scoffed. "And what makes you think I would do anything for you?"

Any answer Rome would have given was silenced by a movement that brought the attention of both men to the young boy standing by Rome's knee.

"Ah, Gupta say hi to the Ottoman Empire." Gupta waved politely. "Ottoman this is Egypt." He stepped back, presenting the boy.

Ottoman eyes widened. "Again! Really Rome you're heartless" Ottoman was prepared to go into a rant to Rome, when he heard soft footsteps come from behind him.

Rome flinched as if he had been burned, fear and shame decorated his face.

Ottoman looked behind him to see Heracles approaching the scene curiously. The younger nation locked eyes with the similarly aged boy in front of him. Though looking at them so close, it was apparent Gupta was older (or at least he seemed to be).

Rome recovered from the arrival of Greece and turned one again to Ottoman. "Could you please just look after him. I don't think I can."

Ottoman sighed, glancing at the supposed mighty empire who could be tamed with the mere sight of a child. "of course I can. You said his name was Gupta?" Rome nodded eagerly. "Okay, but don't let this become a routine. Heracles is enough work by himself."

Still Rome thanked him profusely before finally leaving to return to his own home.

Ottoman looked to the boy who had hardly moved since he arrived. "Hello Egypt, welcome to my home."

…..

Ottoman was thankful when Rome never did show up with another child.

Egypt turned out to be a great help in the household, often acting as mediator between him and Greece. And though the young boy could remember the woman he called mother, he never spoke of her.

But he could feel that she would be happy for him.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm apologizing now for everything wrong with this chapter. I was forced to realize very quickly how little I actually knew about Ancient Egypt. Btw, I love the Mediterranean trio. The end there was a small tribute to them.**

 **1\. These are the lyrics to a song (Human by Ellie Goulding) it helped me get out of the block I was subject to, so I kept them in out of gratitude.**

 **2\. Akhen is completely spur of the moment reference to the Passover. He is not canon in the least bit. Sorry for any who do not want him here.**

 **3\. Ten points to anyone who can correctly guess why I specifically mentioned Juno at this point. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

Rome sometimes envied the humans.

They really didn't know how lucky they were that they could live with their families without centuries of sorrow and guilt resting on their shoulders.

They didn't have to be worried about being killed by their own children.

Ever since he had conquered Egypt, the Roman Empire had not dared go to the other countries. His army had suffered much because of his decision, but he couldn't risk attacking a nation with a child. His absence had his armies making very little progress in Britannia. He was not going to risk entering a nation with four kids.

He took his newly found free time to spend time with his adorable grandsons.

Well at least he tried.

…..

Rome was practically skipping home. He was so excited to see his grandsons today. He was going to teach them how to paint today.

So when he walked through the door, he sang out. "Lovi, Feli, I'm back~!"

"Grandpa Rome"

"My sweet Feli! Guess what I- Feli what's wrong?"

The small by had tears pooling in his closed eyes. He looked scared and Rome was starting to worry.

"Grandpa Rome," his voice was trembling, a light sound that broke the older man's heart. "Lovi, he's in pain and I don't know what to do."

Picking up the child, Rome hurried to his grandsons' bedroom, seeing the older of the two sitting on the bed holding his head.

"Lovi! What's wrong Lovi?" Rome sat next to his pained grandson, gently stroking his soft brown hair.

The child responded by shaking his head.

"Lovi, you need to tell me."

"I don't know. I can't think strait."

"Don't worry Lovi, it might just be your country." Rome thought of the first thing that he thought would make Lovino feel better. However, he wasn't expecting Lovino to shake his head frantically. The child looked ready to cry, but it didn't seem to be caused only by the pain.

"No. Nola's not mine it's yours. And there's a strike. Grandpa, why can I feel the strike in Nola?" Lovino turned his large amber eyes toward the man he could always count on.

The man who was now looking on him in fear.

"Grandpa?" the amber eyed child reached out toward the fear stricken man, headache forgotten. However, just as the boy's small hand was about to close around his caretaker's sleeve, the elder jerked back violently, as if the child in front of him would kill him with the touch.

And Rome truly thought he would.

So Rome, with a cowardice that his grandsons would surely inherit, ran away from the young child, blind to the water running down the child's face.

The empire had not gotten far when he ran into a boy. He looked only fifteen, but Rome knew he was much older.

"Ah, Rome, what a coincidence. I was just coming to-"

"I need you to take Lovino!"

The country blinked, disoriented from being interrupted suddenly, but also confused as he processed what his elder had said. "Lovino?"

Rome nodded hastily. "Please Spain. I don't think I can watch him anymore."

Spain nodded but regarded the other curiously. "What brought this about so suddenly?"

Rome shook his head, unsure how to put it into words. Nola. It was so close to his capital city. Lovino. His grandson, his descendent. Just like Greece and Egypt. He couldn't. Not now. He was finally at the height of his empire. He couldn't fall.

Not now.

"Please Spain. I… I just can't." Not now.

"Alright amigo. Just leave it to España." The happy smile on the young man's face reassured Rome, if only for a moment.

"Thank you," Rome pulled the other in for a hug. "Thank you so much."

Spain was led to the house by Rome. The younger nation was surprised when the other refused to enter.

Still Spain entered and searched the house until he came to a room with two small boys. Both were adorable but his eyes lingered on the one whose cute hair curl stuck out to the right.

"I hope that one is Lovi"

The two boys looked up at the teenager (who had not meant to say that out loud) curiously. Spain grew uncharacteristically nervous under the two teary eyed gazes. Nonetheless… "I'm here to pick up Lovino."

The one with the leftward curl turned to look at his brother, leaving only the rightward curled child to glare at Spain.

It took some convincing but Lovino eventually went with the older country. He looked back once, eyes fixated on the Roman Empire. And for the first time in his life, he cursed at someone.

…..

Rome was enjoying the time he spent with Feliciano.

Ever since he sent Lovi to live with Spain he could feel himself dying. His empire was crumbling. He knew it. At first he tried frantically to prevent it, but now he just couldn't bring himself to do much about it.

But the time he spent with his grandson always brightened up his day. He was so precious. Rome had instructed Feli in the arts, and every time the young nation would finish a new painting, he would proudly present it to his grandfather. Rome found it extremely endearing.

Nonetheless, these happy moments never lasted long. So much was wrong in his land. Germania had taken so much land. And the entire eastern part of his empire had separated to become the Byzantine empire. Britannia had freed herself from his hold. Even Spain had left!

Things were no better within the empire. A new religion had sprung up, spreading fast and threatening the old culture. His government had become corrupt. People in leadership were abusing their power.

So when Germania called him to the battle field, Rome knew that it was his time. There was nothing he could do to delay it anymore.

So he decided to give his grandsons one last gift.

"Feliciano." The small country looked over to his grandfather, curious as to what he would need.

"Yes Grandpa Rome?"

"Feli, you still don't have a country yet, right?"

"Nope. But I know one day I'll be a really strong country, just like you grandpa!" the child said it excitedly. He didn't know the sadness that came with being a nation.

"Feli, listen to me." The child focused his distraction prone mind onto his grandfather. He knew he was about to hear something important. "Feli, never become an empire. Please. Every empire falls."

"But you didn't fall grandpa."

Rome smiled sadly at the child who for all his years, still knew nothing of the world. "Can you just promise you will never be an empire."

Feliciano, despite still being confused, understood this was very important. "I promise grandpa."

Rome smiled at his precious grandchild. He set a hand on the child's head, stroking his soft hair. "I have something for you Feli." Feliciano's face became bright, excited at the prospect of a present. "You know the city of Venice?" Feliciano nodded. "I'm giving that to you. I want you to take care of it. Keep it looking pretty okay?"

"I will grandpa Rome!"

Rome watched his excited grandson fondly. _'And to you Lovi, I give you the city Rome, my old capital. I know you'll watch it well. I'm so sorry I left you Lovi. Please forgive me.'_

Rome felt a couple tears leak from his eyes. He held so many regrets that were too late to fix.

The next day Rome took Feliciano to Austria's house. He said goodbye, but never told Feli where he was going.

…..

Rome stood on what was likely to be his final battlefield, thinking.

' _I wonder if I should pray. Ah, but with the religious confusion going on, I don't know who to pray to. Juno doesn't feel right. Besides it's time I stop worshiping Greece's gods*. But praying to this Jesus doesn't seem right either. I guess I won't pray then.'_

While the former empire was thinking, a figure had made his way towards him. His long blond hair adorned by a single braid. He was focused and determined, preparing for the fight ahead of him. He was the opposite of the shorthaired brunette spaced out in front of him.

Let's just say Germania was irked.

The blond stalked up to the dopey faced man, and without any prior warning, hit him upside the head with his sheath.

"Pay attention idiot." The brunette rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his head. It hurt more than it usually would, but he wasn't going to let that show now.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Rome said with a smile. He and Germania had their differences, and hardly ever got along recently, but Rome was not planning to make any more mistakes. Germania was a friend once, and Rome would treat him as such.

They stayed like that for a while. Germania glaring at Rome, analyzing the other as he always did. Rome staring back, not nearly as threateningly, and oddly complacent.

It ended when Germania sighed and drew his sword, Rome quickly following.

"Today, I swear, you will fall." Germania growled out as he advanced.

"I've already fallen." Rome said to himself, striding forward more leisurely, sword left unraised.

And the two battled. Germania's attacks were fierce, controlled and focused, just like the man himself. Rome defended, hardly bothering to lash out offensively, but enjoying the battle nonetheless.

Rome was starting to breathe harder. He kept it subtle, hiding it from Germania. The battle was starting to fall from the climax, the end surely nearing.

"Tell me," the words caught Germania's attention, having not expected a conversation during the battle, "do you have any kids?"

Germania was thrown off, his sword missing its target completely. He backed up a bit to regain himself, before rejoining the battle just as quickly.

"Yes, I do." Germania glared at the other, not too keen on the other knowing about his children, but telling him such anyway. He felt the other needed to know.

Rome smiled. He didn't know how, but he knew they were good for the old nation.

"Take care of them. Never leave them, no matter what."

"Of course." No hesitation. Rome felt the love the other had for his kids. In a way he was envious, but more than anything he was relieved.

Rome was pulled from his thoughts by a pain. Germania had managed a pretty good strike to his side, one that would normally not bother him too much, but everything was beginning to add up. His sword was heavier, it's movements much slower.

Germania noticed the other's weakness this time. He didn't comment on it, nor was he particularly worried, but he was curious. Could it be the trouble in his country was affecting him more than he thought?

As he landed another strike, he thought of the past battles he had with the other. He thought of how he had annexed Austria and Switzerland. He thought of his infuriating attitude, and his too large ego. He thought of these as he landed strike after strike. Each more forceful than the last. The other could hardly keep up his defense.

Finally, the blonde growled out, "I hate you." He thrust his sword forward.

Rome caught it in his chest. But there was little pain on his face. He smiled at his northern neighbor, his old friend. "I know."

His smile was still bright even as his body started to fade.

Germania stared at the disappearing nation shocked. Soon there was nothing on the end of the sword, yet somehow it felt heavier than normal.

* * *

 **A/N: don't hate me!** **Thank you to all those who have followed/favorited. And thanks again to c7a7t7 for reviewing. You really make me happy. (^_^.)**

 ***Lots of Roman gods were based off of Greek gods. Juno was Rome's version of Hera. And if you recall the last thing Rome heard Greece say was Hera. He, who didn't know about her son at the time didn't realize she was calling for Heracles rather than Hera the goddess. That is why I made Rome primarily pray to Juno.**

' **Til next time then! Review if you want!**


	5. Chapter 5

It's odd sometimes how one situation can dramatically change someone. For humans this situation occurred more often than any other species.

It was like humans couldn't ever decide just to keep thins the same. They always had to change, to make something new or to places yet unseen. They couldn't just stay where they were.

They were the most insufferable, influencable, and unpredictable species Britannia had ever encountered. Yet she found herself identifying with them more often than not.

There were many differences between them. Britannia was a nation, an immortal whose fate was tied to the very land. She changed slowly and worried not about death and mortality.

Humans were adaptable, constantly in fear of the end of their own lives. They were responsible for their own fate.

Britannia lived centuries believing these differences would forever cause a rift between her and her humans.

That changed the moment Alistair was born.

It was the first change that affected Britannia on a personal level.

Suddenly there was something more important than her land. There was something that see was personally accountable for. The thought both scared her and gave her immense joy.

And before she knew it her son had multiplied into two. Then a third came. And finally Britannia was left to care for four growing countries.

Alistair, Patrick, Dylan and Arthur.

The most important things in the entire universe.

Britannia figured change wasn't always a bad thing.

…..

"Alistair" called Britannia catching sight of her oldest son.

Alistair immediately heeded the call of his mother. He wanted to prove to her just how responsible he was, now that he had been given responsibility over Caledonia. He was the only of his siblings to have inherited a country so far.

"Alistair, Britannia repeated once the boy reached her, "I'm going to tech you something today."

Alistair nodded eager to learn.

Britannia smirked, knowing what was coming. She lifted a hand and chanted some words Alistair could not distinguish. Suddenly a small glittering fairy was visible to the young country. He stared at it in amazement as it fluttered around the garden.

Britannia smiled, she knew Alistair had the magic touch, but now he was getting his first taste of it.

Alistair looked to Britannia, silently asking to learn the wonders of whatever she had just done.

"It's called magic dear. As a country you have the ability to learn magic. But it's pretty hard so you will have to work very hard."

"Mother, I'm not a kid anymore, please stop speaking to me as if I were still seven." It was true. Alistair now had the appearance of a young teenager. His red hair had gotten even more wild with time. It was quite the sight. But Britannia couldn't help but see him as the small boy who would lead his brothers into mischief. He was his own country now.

"Oh was I doing that? I'm sorry _Caledonia_." She said with only the slightest mischievous smirk.

"Mom!" Alistair protested as his mother used his formal title. His ears tinted red, trying to blend in with his hair.

"I'm only teasing Alistair." Her words were meant to calm him, but the smile still present on the female country's face, had no such hope. "Alistair, you're too cute."

Alistair grumbled in response, not giving the woman the satisfaction of hearing his words. She would only make fun of them anyway. Once he had calmed himself enough that nothing teaseable would show through his voice, Caledonia asked the all-important question. "So, can I learn magic now?"

"Of course, Alistair." Britannia stood before her son, staring straight into his vibrant green eyes. "Magic is mostly learned through practical application. You can learn through theory, though that is often much harder." Alistair nodded. "To gather magic is a lot like breathing. You're taking in something from the world around you, to use as you see fit." She motioned for Alistair to breathe deeply, her hands moving in the rhythm of the flowing air. "Breathe. Feel the movement. Now reach out for something else. It's there, you just have to find it."

Alistair stood, eyes closed and breathing deeply, completely focused on finding the magic. Suddenly his breath hitched and his eyes snapped open. "Mother, I found it."

Britannia was surprised. "really? So soon?"

Alistair nodded happily. "It's like this warmth just flooding into me. Wow. It feels so amazing." Alistair looked at his hands, trailing them across each other as the warmth of magic reached his fingers.

"This is amazing. It normally takes a wizard, hours just to find the magic the first time." Britannia thought back, and indeed no wizard she knew had found magic within an hour. "you are going to be very powerful Alistair."

Alistair beamed up at his mother.

"Now let's try a spell shall we?"

"yes!" Alistair cheered and took what he assumed would be a good spell casting stance. He missed the playful smile once again spreading on his mother's lips.

"Now, repeat after me." She waited for her son to nod in all seriousness. "Iamalittleboyandilovemymommy"

"Iama…" Alistair started the spell but broke off abruptly. "Wait! There's no way that's a spell!"

"I assure you, it's a real spell." Said Britannia as she worked to hide her giggles.

"Liar!"

…..

Britannia was feeling an unrest on the second largest island of her land. Apparently the people there were trying to form their own government. That island wasn't technically under the rule of her own government, so she allowed it. On the day they finally pulled a government together, she took Patrick to speak with him privately.

Patrick as well had grown from when he was a child. He looked like any other human pre-teen. His strawberry blonde hair was thick and unruly, threatening to fall in his emerald eyes.

Alistair had been about the same 'age' when he adopted Caledonia.

"Patrick, I have something really important to tell you."

"Is it about Ireland?"

"Yes, how do you know? And how do you know they called it Ireland, I only just found out myself?"

"Well," he looked thoughtful, "it's rather hard to explain. It's like the information just came into my head, without me even having to think about it."

"I guess that makes this much easier. Patrick, Ireland has formed its own government and I would like for you to watch over it as their nation."

Patrick's eyes widened. He didn't think he would get a country so soon. He almost denied the responsibility, but the information just felt so right to him. Like he was always Ireland, ever since he was born. So Patrick nodded, fully accepting the role as the newest nation. And with the nod a whole new sensation overcame him. He could hear the people of Ireland conversing he could feel it as the tilled the land. He felt their emotions, heard their thoughts. He knew of the lake hidden in the forest no one has found yet. He knew of all the creatures who lived there. The deer and rabbits, the foxes, the **dragons**. It was as if he were discovering a whole new world.

Patrick loved the land of Ireland completely.

Britannia smiled warmly as she watched her son get to know his land. Though with the passing of the land she felt herself grow weaker, she knew this small sacrifice was worth it, just as it was with Alistair and just as it will be for Dylan and Arthur.

Seeing them happy made it worth it.

…..

When Britannia was younger, she expected to live forever. This was before she even understood the concept of death. But even after she learned that every mortal creature met an end, she couldn't quite convince herself that death applied to her. Britannia would last forever, wouldn't it?

Only now did she realize how foolish she was.

Standing at the border of Caledonia the last of her free people fleeing behind her as the Romans slowly advanced. She felt weak, drained of any energy that being a nation gave her. She was dying, and she very well knew it. She could feel the army moving across her land. It made her skin crawl, knowing they didn't belong there.

Britannia wasn't sure whether or not it was a blessing to know beforehand she would die during this invasion. It scared her to think that when the time came to meet Rome on the battlefield, that was it. She would no longer be able to walk the forests, or speak with her people. She could spend no more time with her sons. But now that she knew, each moment with them was a treasure.

She could see Alistair now trying to teach Dylan a spell he had learned. As the newly appointed Wales, his magic, just like his older brothers, was very strong. But he was also weak from the invasion. Not the same as Britannia, he would surely live past this. If nothing else Britannia was grateful to know her sons would be alright, despite the Romans.

So now all that was left was to wait for Rome to enter the battlefield, as she knew he would.

So Britannia set out to live each day as if she would have to leave the next morning for the battlefield. She continued teaching her sons magic. Arthur still didn't have a land, but Britannia had a feeling he would be the one to win back their island from the romans. But as of now, he was still a child, no more than ten in the humans' eyes.

Another day passed. Britannia gave Alistair the key to the chest she kept her magic books. He promised to keep them safe.

Another week passed. Patrick had found a bow and some arrows and was learning how to use them. Britannia helped as much as she could. She herself was more adept with a spear.

Another month passed. She comforted Dylan who had had a nightmare of his people dying by the hands of the romans. She stayed by his side all night.

A year passed. Arthur hadn't grown a centimeter and was the topic of much teasing. Britannia regulated it, joining in with teasing all her sons when their spirits were high.

A decade passed. The roman empire was at the height of its glory, but the man himself had not stepped foot onto her land.

A century passed. News of Germania fighting the Roman empire reached the ears of Britannia. The connection to her land was still faint, and she refused to let her hopes rise.

Five centuries passed and the Roman empire had fallen, retreating out of Britannia's lands for good.

In all that time, she had never once seen the man who was meant to kill her.

…

Albion.

That was the name of the country that was unifying within her lands. It was Arthur's name.

For the second time in her life, Britannia felt the disconnect with her lands grow. But unlike the last time, it felt natural, like she was a human who had aged beyond her years, and this was simply the next step. Unlike last time, the one killing her was next to her, completely unaware of what he was doing.

Arthur was excited. He could feel the connection to his land grow, and he was eager to join his brothers, despite being physically younger than they were when they had become countries. (this was also a topic for teasing)

Nonetheless, as Albion grew in power and unity, Britannia slowly crumbled.

Arthur officially became a country on the twenty third of April. Britannia retreated into the forests the same hour.

The last strands Britannia held of the land were ripped away. She felt void, empty, alone for the first time in her existence. Those humans she once found insufferable, she longed to once again feel. She wanted to visit the parts of her land she had not yet seen with her own eyes. But that land was no longer hers. The people were no longer her people. Everything she ever had or was belonged to her sons now.

She felt herself begin to fade. It started where her capital had been placed. Her heart. Her life was now gone, and though she had prepared for it, she wept. Tears leaked silently from her eyes, disappearing before they had the chance to reach the ground.

It could have taken hours, or almost no time at all, but the time came when Britannia had faded completely. And soon, the very grass upon which she had knelt in her final moments straightened out, it too, abandoning the one who had represented it for so long. Her body no more than the breeze carrying through the trees. Her being no more than the memories of those who knew her.

…..

What was once a close family, full of companionship and playful banter, fell apart. What replaced it were reluctant brothers, full of animosity toward the others. They were fighting constantly, letting all their anger loose upon each other. They avoided each other as much as possible, drove the others away. The person who once held them together was gone. And as far as three of them were concerned, it was all the youngest fault.

Arthur, who was still young at the time, was filled with confusion at the sudden falling out of his family. The confusion slowly morphed into animosity towards the brothers who hated him, mistreated him, despite that he had done nothing wrong. He wanted the family he had grown up with back. But each time he tried to bring them together, their relationship changed for the worst. That was when Arthur Kirkland realized,

A family, once broken, can never be the same again.

 **A/N: First let me say I apologize this took so long to get out. I started to go in a direction that wasn't right for the story and had to change it. But I really hope you guys like the final result! Review if you'd like! (thx otakufairy for your review. It really made me smile.)**


	6. Chapter 6

Germania by far did not have the simplest family situation. He knew for certain Ludwig and Gilbert were his. And he knew he was in some way related to Vash and Roderich, but he did not know how. Then there was Holy Roman Empire, who could very well be his, but ended up caught between his and Rome's extended family instead. Family among countries could get confusing really easily.

In fact, if he didn't have his biological sons, Germania would be prepared to say that familial ties simply did not exist between countries.

And Germania would have been content leaving it there. He was not necessarily a family man, that was left to the likes of Rome. And sometimes his kids were just too hard to deal with.

Actually it was more like all the time.

And it was really only Gilbert. Ludwig was fine.

But Gilbert was a nightmare.

Nearly as soon as the child had learned how to speak, he declared himself the personification of "the awesome Teutonic Knights". Germania could only assume he was born for the sole purpose of representing them. And he did it well. Running around like a maniac, wielding a sword, and picking fights with countries he really had no business in messing with.

Germania was happy Ludwig didn't have a country yet. It made things much calmer.

…..

Germania could very easily see that the Teutonic knights loved their little personification.

Perhaps they saw him as a symbol of their strength, or maybe they only knew him as the small, overly enthusiastic boy who would one-day grow to be a great warrior. Whatever the reason, Germania could easily trust them to watch over his eldest but irresponsible son.

He could not say the same for the people living in his own lands.

No one ever approached the red eyed boy, but their apprehension toward him was very obvious to Germania. It was a wonder their opinions hadn't affected his own yet.

Still, though the child could be a pain, he still wanted him safe. Even if it was from the opinions of his own people.

So he never let Gilbert go anywhere alone. The albino was always accompanied by one of his knights, another young country, or Germania himself. He did this for as long as he could, but he knew the day would come when that boy would wander the streets alone. He could only hope that whatever was said didn't hurt him too much.

Germania wasn't prepared for what truly happened that day.

Germania was relaxing in his home, reading with Ludwig doing the same beside him. He felt a large group of his people releasing a long held tension. It relaxed him, though he did not know what had relieved his people in such a way.

His new peace didn't last long as a young brown haired boy charged into his home. Germania barely recognized him as a nation Gilbert liked to spend time with, Hungary was his name, before the boy saw him and ran straight for him.

Germania was instantly on edge when he saw how scared the boy was. He barely registered the fear of his people rise as well.

"Mr. Germania! You have to come help. The people" tears started to form in the boy's eyes as he spoke, his shear will to get out his words the only thing keeping them from falling. "they set him on fire! They set G-Gilbert on f-fire. Please you have to help him."

Germania was already up and racing to the door when the boy finished. He ran as fast as he could manage toward the center of town. He found nothing there. No people, no fire, no Gilbert. He started panicking, surely he hadn't faded. He would have left something behind, right?

He heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind him. He turned around, hoping to catch sight of a little white head, but no such luck. Instead he saw Hungary, running and out of breath. He was yelling.

"They're …. old church."

Though the words had been quieted by the distance Germania understood. He once again started sprinting, this time toward the old church by the lakeside. He only hoped his mistake hadn't cost Gilbert his life. He couldn't die yet. He still had the knights. He couldn't die while they were still there. Germania told himself these things as his lungs started burning from the rapid exchange of air.

Yet when he arrived in the courtyard by the church, he was met with much the same sight as the town center. But this made his heart rise to his throat, beating so frantically he couldn't distinguish one thump from the next.

The only thing in the courtyard were ashes at the base of a blackened pole.

Suddenly it was if Germania were separate from the world, a feeling that under normal circumstances, would have terrified him, but now was nothing more than an insignificant detail. time didn't matter. No pain or war he could ever go through could possibly matter more than this moment.

His re-collision with the physical world was nothing pleasant. He would have started crying if the human hadn't chosen that moment to enter his vision. Instead all his sorrow violently transformed into anger.

"You Killed him! Why?! He hadn't done anything." Germania wasn't actually sure if this human had anything to do with Gilbert, but any rational thought such as that had left him.

However, it was very soon proved his anger was not misdirected.

"That demon should have never existed in the beginning. The world is better with him gone."

Germania punched him so hard, the man actually flew back a few feet. "He's not a demon!"

"Heretic, you can join him! See if the water treats you any differently!"

This made Germania pause. Water? Didn't they burn him? But if he didn't die then maybe…

"You threw him in the lake?"

"Yes we did." The man stated proudly. He was proud to have hurt his son. "Demon wouldn't die by fire. He did scream though." The man smiled, taking pleasure in the memory of the pain he caused a child.

Germania wanted to waste no more time on the man. He knew where his son was and if he was lucky, he would find him still alive. But he couldn't simply leave the evil man as he was. He spared only a second, just long enough to speak once. "I reject you."

Germania was already running towards the lake. He missed the pain and anguish that overtook the man's demeanor.

Germania arrived at the lake to see the last remnants of a crowd dispersing. He paid them no mind, there was something much more important.

As soon as he reached the water's edge, he jumped in, eyes scanning under the water for a flash of white in the blue. After much too long, Germania saw him. He was struggling desperately, ropes binding his ankles and wrists, preventing him from swimming even if he could. He looked like he was in so much pain, and though the water absorbed any tears, Germania was sure they were there.

He grabbed a hold of his son, Gilbert's struggling instantly calming as he let his father pull him back to the shore.

Once they broke they surface Gilbert took in as much air as he could, but almost instantly started hacking up the water in his lungs. Once they reached the land, Germania undid his son's restraints angry at those who could be so cruel.

Gilbert looked up the se the absolutely enraged face of his father before the need to remove the water from his lungs came again in full force.

Germania starting patting the boys back, hoping to force a little more water out. Eventually the coughing stopped and both Gilbert and Germania were left exhausted.

"You stupid boy." He grunted out as he enveloped Gilbert into a tight hug.

Gilbert didn't notice the warm salty droplets that fell into his still soaked hair.

…..

It was rare for Gilbert to spend time inside. He simply couldn't handle it. The child was much more excitable than the other occupants of the house. Both Germania and Ludwig preferred things quiet and ordered. Gilbert relished in the chaos the two couldn't handle.

Germania was almost glad Prussia was an established kingdom. It had forced the boy to mature, if only by a little. The old nation could finally spend his days in silence.

SLAM! "Ze AWESOME me is Here!"

So much for the silence.

"Hello Gilbert. What are you doing here?" he asked not trying to hide the exasperation on his face.

"Austria was being a pussy again and it was getting totally unawesome to be around him. So I thought, why don't I visit my awesome little brother, since he hasn't seen my awesome self in a while." Only Gilbert could ever say this in all honesty.

(notice how it wasn't said he said it seriously. Gilbert could not do 'serious')

Hearing Gilbert's proclamation, Germania nodded, settling back to continue his reading. Ludwig did not have this luxury, as he was being dragged outside by his Prussian brother.

For the next hour Germania heard loud, wild cackling sounding through the window. The hour after that, it was mysteriously quiet. Germania peeked outside to see the yard empty. This might have been alarming for some parents with small children, but was normal for the Germanic family. Prussia had likely dragged Ludwig on an adventure to terrorize some of the other countries.

Germania had approximately three hours of alone time before him.

Sighing he left his reading, making his way over to the shed that always stood locked behind his house. He opened the door to reveal an array of weapons, ones that he would never let his sons near. (It was a wonder to this day how Gilbert managed to get ahold of a sword)

Reaching in he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows. The bow was beautiful, the most well made one he owned. Carefully, focused, Germania strung the bow and went over to the line of targets he had set out whenever someone from his family wanted to practice.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Each arrow embedded into the targets. It was rhythmic. Grab and arrow, draw back, aim, breathe, shoot. The process repeated over and over, each thunk of the arrow hitting wood in beat with the ones before it. Soon a single arrow remained in the quiver. The beat stopped, Germania rolling the last arrow between his fingers. His calloused skin dulled the sensation of the smooth wood. Sighing, Germania placed the arrow back into the quiver. His feet carried him to the targets, his mind barely registered the perfect accuracy with which the arrows had struck the targets. Each arrow was pulled harshly from their temporary wooden home, placed back into the quiver.

He stood at the last target, hand reaching toward the first arrow, when he heard soft footfalls approaching. He pulled out the first arrow, turning around to see a teenager with floppy blond hair approaching, a quiet-looking brunette teenager trailing behind him. The blond greeted him openly, holding up his hand in an unfinished wave. "Hallo Uncle Germania!"

This is another instance in which Germania's confusing family situation is represented. Simply because Germania didn't have a brother and as such couldn't have nephews. He did though, have a cousin, but as far as he was aware, Scandinavia did not have any kids. Or any other family for that matter.

And frankly, Germania could do without this part of his family.

"Go away. I have no desire to speak with you." he turned away from the two, arrow clutch firmly in his fingers, ready to be used if he needed.

"Ah, Uncle don't be like that." The smile never left his face.

"I'm not your uncle."

"Well, you refuse to admit we're your sons. It would make sense for a Germanic tribe to be related to Germania, would it not?"

"No, go away."

"Uncle, we have business here and we are not leaving until it has been discussed." Germania gave no reply. Seeing the silence as an opportunity to continue the blond got right down to business. "Uncle, we would like to be independent." The smile had disappeared from his face, filled with determination and purpose.

"No." you would die almost instantly. Thunk. Germania had returned to shooting arrows. The pace much slower than the last.

The Germanic tribe clenched a fist in anger. "And why not? What reason could you possibly have to keep us from independence? You're just selfish! You refuse to acknowledge us, but you control us! All the while Prussia is out there making his kingdom stronger! What makes him so much better than us?"

Germania silently nocked the next arrow.

"Fine. We're through with you. We'll show you how strong we can get on our own. We don't need you or your permission. Goodbye Onkel."

Thunk. The arrow landed right next to the one previous, right where he aimed. Footsteps once again had him looking away, this time to see the retreating forms of the two tribes.

Just don't do anything stupid.

…..

Germania felt like he was being torn apart.

It wasn't like any war he had ever been through. He couldn't feel the blood of his people soaking into his land. He wasn't holding a sword prepared to enter battle. There was no death. It was a battle of identity and everyone was losing.

The people were unsure whether they identified with the collective Germania or if they wanted to be separate with their tribe. A nation needed a people with a common identity. Without that, a nation would be poisoned by their own lifeblood.

"Vater" identical ice blue eyes met, one pair full of concern, the other struggling to hide their pain.

"Ludwig."

"Tell me, do you have any kids?"

A small, soft hand gently rested on the older nation's forehead. The land lingered there, warm and soft on the worn, tired skin. It was comforting. Suddenly the hand moved, patting the head where it previously rested as if saying 'everything will be okay'.

"Take care of them. Never leave them, no matter what."

"of course"

Germania raised his own hand, resting it on the small boy's head. He didn't move it, for that small action alone exhausted his weakened frame. Ludwig gave his father a small smile, an expression that was hardly seen despite his young age.

Rome, you jerk, you knew this would happen, didn't you?

Germania matched the young boy's smile, though his was much weaker and tired looking.

"Ludwig, will you listen to me please?" Ludwig nodded, very slightly, as to not move his father's hand. "I want you to stick close to Gilbert, okay. You can do that, right?" another small nod. Germania nodded along with him, each nod getting slower than the last, until his head stopped moving completely.

Ice blue eyes filled with moisture dripping down an old and young face alike.

Ludwig reached up and moved his father's hand off his head so he could hold it in his hands. He gripped it tightly, refusing to let it go even as the older man's breath stopped. He didn't let go when it became limp in his grip. He didn't let go until it disappeared from his grasp.

….

The Germanic tribes all died out. They, being weaker than Germania, had no hope of surviving the identity crisis. Ludwig was the only nation left to represent the land. Ludwig, encouraged by his brother, took on the name Germany in tribute to his father.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh my gosh! I got three reviews this last chapter! I'm so very happy. Just in case anyone is wondering, yes, that first part is based off a head cannon thing I saw on the internet, so it is not my original idea, but I wrote it anyway.**

 **Until next chapter!**

 **Btw Guest- I appreciate the information (totally interesting!). I chose to follow what I thought to be the most common order for the siblings. I did know that wales was called Cymru, but I totally forgot when I was actually writing the chapter (haha). But what (little) research I did, said that Scotland was Caledonia and Alba was what the Caledonians called Albion. So not sure what's happening there. So, I hope my blundering doesn't bother you too bad (sorry).**


	7. Chapter 7

Kievan Rus absolutely loved children. She loved their laughter and their energy. She loved how they could stay bright even in dark times.

She always wept when one didn't make it through the winter.

She tried to save them, always. But often her efforts amounted to nothing, their small human bodies unable to recover from the cold, or fight off winter sicknesses.

So, she was absolutely terrified when she birthed her first child only a few short months before the coming winter.

Kievan Rus knew nothing of other nation, preferring to stay in her own area away from any others. She could not think of any specific instance where she had spent time with another nation. As a result, she had no idea what to expect with a child of one of her kind.

Would her little Katyusha be like her? Would she be human? Is she fated to die within only a few days? These questions led steadily into paranoia and Kievan Rus found herself unable to be in a separate room as her daughter, afraid that the moment she left, the child would stop breathing.

But her worrying was not needed. The child grew healthy, much slower than any human child would. And just as Katyusha started looking like a normal toddler, Ivan was born in the middle of winter. The cold winds had blown hard that year, General Winter making his presence known at the time of the child's birth.

Both Kievan Rus and Katyusha loved Ivan from the moment they saw him. He had opened his big violet eyes and given them a smile that melted all the frost from the harsh winter. (quite literally. An unexpected heat wave hit Kiev at that moment)

Kievan Rus loved children. But there was nothing on this earth, no other child, that she loved more than her own.

…..

Kievan Rus steadied Ivan as he prepared to toddle up to Katyusha. It was his first attempted trek across a room, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't insanely worried.

What if he fell down? What if he hurt himself? Stepped on something sharp? What if he suddenly turned and ran out the door never to be seen again? What if the ceiling collapsed and fell on him?

Step. He left the embrace her of warm hands, though they were still there, lingering ready to catch him if he fell.

Step. His violet eyes were trained on the ground, watching the wood slowly disappear behind him.

Step. The soft bottoms of his feet bean to ache as they slid across the rough wood.

Step. He laced up to see the warm eyes of his sister. She was smiling at him, encouraging him to go the last little distance.

Step. His destination was so close. Pale thin arms stretched out towards him.

Step. Eagar to reach his destination, he had stepped too far. He fell forward, face heading toward the hard ground. A shot of fear went through him and he moved his feet hoping that by moving forward, he might avoid the painful collision.

But he was still falling. Just as he was sure he would hit the ground, the two pale thin arms from before scooped him up, lifting him away from the ground.

"You did it Ivan" Katyusha cooed to her little brother, pools of blue shining bright in pride. Ivan stared up wide eyed at his sister, catching sight of her big infectious smile. He began to giggle, the little laughs lighting up his own violet orbs.

Kievan Rus watched her two children. Her eyes began to overflow with tears, her heart already overflowed form the emotion of the moment. The water leaked down her cheeks, falling softly to the ground.

Surely her life could not make her happier than she was at this moment.

…

Navy eyes stared up into violet. So different than the ones before her, Natalia did not immediately smile. She just stared, as if she were determining for herself if the platinum haired woman above her could be trusted.

Slowly, almost cautiously, the small lips curved upward, radiating a warmth that the initial blank expression had carefully hidden.

Kievan Rus fell in love with her third child once again.

"Mother, can I go pay with Ivan?"

Even as Kievan Rus looked nervously at the white blanket that completely hid the ground, she knew what the answer would be.

"Of course, Natalia. Let's get your coat on first."

Natalia hurried over the grab the used fabric. The coat had once belonged to Katyusha, but her older sister had long since grown out of it. Kievan Rus grabbed a pair of knitted mittens for her daughter, dressing the child as warmly as she could.

Natalia wasted no time in racing outside, immediately setting to work on the snowman her brother was making, helping him pack the snow into firm spheres. Both children remained unbothered by the cold, as if they were meant to thrive in the harsh winter.

Katyusha remained inside, next to Kievan Rus as they both worked to knit scarves. Katyusha worked more slowly, hands clumsy and unpracticed. Kievan Rus watched her, ready to lend her a hand when her daughter got stuck.

It seemed like such a short time ago when she was living alone. Her house always cold and dark as she was out among her people. Now the house had become a home, filled with a warmth that could not be achieved with fire alone.

Though the winter blew hard, and her lungs worked harder from the decreased trade from Byzantine, Kievan Rus was happier than she had ever been.

…..

The cold air ripped through her lungs, over her skin, planting chilling needles that made all her nerves burn in pain and overuse. Though she could navigate the land blindfolded, her eyes were open wide desperately searching for a means of escape she knew wasn't there. Sweat coated her hands, the only part of her that seemed warm at the moment, as the gripped two, much smaller, much colder hands.

Her legs burned in protest, asking her to stop. Her lungs begged much the same. The blood rushing to her face did nothing to stave away the cold. But none of that mattered as long as Kievan Rus could get away. As long as she could get her children away.

Mongolia. A country to the east. Kievan Rus had had to battle him* many times. Most were simply skirmishes, hardly requiring the presence of the nations. Other were larger, full scale wars that cost both countries much. But none had ever been this bad. Mongolia had never taken things this far.

He had never reached her capital before.

Even now she could feel the destruction. She felt as both her people and Kiev fell before the might of the Mongols. All the pain wore on her body.

And all of the sudden the pain was very more real.

It penetrated her back, right between her shoulders. It was like all the cold from all the winters she had lived through had now been granted access to her insides. She gasped, both from surprise and pain.

She fell forward, her face landing in the snow as her hands released those she was holding. As she lay there, she felt the small hands of Ivan and Natalia pulling on her clothes trying to get her up. She saw the feet of Katyusha next to her, but could not feel her near.

She struggled to get to her knees, but the cold point of the arrow just shifted further into her. He hands buried into the snow, working desperately to keep her off the ground. The snow near her had already been tainted red. She turned away from the morbid painting beneath her. Her eyes met those of Katyusha, staring out in fear and horror.

Kievan Rus felt as heat rose to her face and settled behind her eyes. She blinked and felt droplets of water escape past her eyelashes.

"Go"

Katyusha's eyes mirrored her mother's. Tears blocked her vision and made her eyes shine like crystal ice.

"Take Ivan and Natalia and go. Please Katyusha."

"Mother, I…"

"Please darling." Kievan Rus spoke gently through her tears. She felt her life fading, her connection with the land disappearing with her life force. "Do just this last thing for me."

Katyusha's tears had left the confines of her eyes, openly streaking down her face. She stepped forward to grab the hands of her siblings, firmly dragging them away, their hands stained red with blood. "Mother, I'm so sorry." She choked out as she turned away.

The moment her daughter stepped away, Kievan Rus felt her heart ripped from her chest. No longer did she feel the pain and destruction of her people. No longer did she feel Kiev falling.

Her arms lost their strength and she fell once more toward the snow. Even as she fell, her eyes saw the backs of her children. Ivan was desperately trying to turn back, his violet eyes trying to stay trained on her. Natalia was struggling to keep up, but she knew she would keep going until she could walk no further. As they hurried away Katyusha stumbled, flinching forward as if she were in pain.

That was when Kievan Rus understood.

"Oh, Katyusha. You have nothing to apologize for." Her eyes closed, her ears picking up the footsteps she knew to be Mongolia's. "Take care of Kiev darling."

A final warm breath escaped the former nation. The delicate features and fair physique of Kievan Rus faded out of existence, disappearing as completely as melted snow. All that was left behind was the crimson blood that slowly became as cold as the winter.

* * *

 _*I'm pretty sure Mongolia is male_

 **A/N: I could give you a list of excuses as long as this chapter. But I'm just going to leave it as lon term writer's block. Please forgive me.**

 **This chapter was originally not going to happen. But a comment from BlackOliveWrites got me thinking it should probably happen. I hope you enjoyed it!**


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